


in safety

by thisissirius



Category: Kings (TV 2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jack is different when he comes back from gilboa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in safety

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lorax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorax/gifts).



> merry yuletide, lorax! 
> 
> i hope this is everything you wanted from a fic; i forgot how much i loved kings until i read your letter and then everything came flooding back. i hope i did jack justice - i know how much you love him - and i'm sorry if he's not what you were expecting. thank you for this chance to write for them again!

**o1.** _And David went out and was successful wherever Saul sent him, so that Saul set him over the men of war._

Jack is different when he comes back from Gilboa. 

David doesn’t see him the first day, wrapped up as he is in battle strategies. The more time he spends with his men, with the people of Gath who would see Gilboa in David’s hands, the more he realizes just how out of his depth he is. It’s only now that he’s surrounded by so many people that he realizes how alone he is. His mother and brothers are out of reach, Michelle is still in exile, determined to raise their child out of sight of everyone, including David. Samuels is dead, and Jack is - 

Jack _was_ in Gilboa. 

They haven’t spoken since David had him dethroned, since he and Silas worked in tandem to take what Jack’s always seen as his birthright from underneath him. David feels a thrum of guilt at that, but he knows what God wants, knows that Jack needs to stand for himself with nobody behind him before he can be the man he wishes he was. David is apprehensive about the meeting, especially when their plans are interrupted by one of the Gath advisers telling David in low tones that Jack has been liberated from Gilboa. 

_Liberated_ implies that he was a prisoner. David takes a moment and then nods, letting the man know that he’ll be along shortly. The meeting is over in a few more minutes, with assurances from the soldiers that they are gaining ground, that more still will be seized from Silas in time, and David closes the meeting with agreement that they return the next week to catch up. 

When everyone is gone, David lets out a slow breath and feels every inch the loneliness he’s afraid of. 

Jack is waiting, and David finds that he _wants_ to see him, despite the fear and worry. Whatever happened to Jack in Gilboa, it will be better now. David has someone, no matter what emotions might be between them, and he’ll take antagonism over the nothing he has right now.

\- - - 

**o2.** _I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan;_

David has taken up residence in one of the many safe houses secreted away in Gath. The Premiere is keen to keep himself out of Silas’ eye by not being vocal or obvious in helping David, though he has offered everything he can under the circumstances. It’s a mighty army by any standards, especially with the trouble Gilboa has seen, and David has every confidence that they _can_ do this, especially with God on their side. 

The safe house is extensive; a block of flats connected in many ways, as a safeguard from enemies who might stumble upon them. The room Jack’s been set up in is directly across from David’s, at his own request. He knocks on the door, frowning when there’s no reply. He waits a beat and then knocks again, finally hearing footsteps padding across the floor. 

The door opens slowly, and it only takes a moment for David to read everything in Jack's stance. 

He knows, even as he sees the anger, guilt and fear warring for dominance on Jack’s face, that Jack can see everything in return. What strikes David more, a sharp pain in his chest that dulls only slightly, is the air of defeat around Jack. After everything that’s happened, David’s never believed that Jack could ever feel that way, and he doesn't know what to do with it.

“Jack.”

Jack’s eyes darken. He turns away from the door and pads back over to the bed. The room is sparsely decorated, and David sighs. His wish that Gath accommodate Jack as they have him has not been taken seriously, and yet their use of the word _liberated_ gives him hope that they might. Jack himself is dressed well, clothes that have been provided by someone here, and his hair is wet, curling at the ends as it dries. He’s barefoot, and as he sits down on the bed, David can see a thick mark on his neck that’s angry and red. A scar, David realizes, though he doesn’t know where it can have come from. 

Neither of them speaks for a while, Jack refusing to meet David’s gaze, and it’s this that causes David to break his own silence. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Jack’s lip curls, finally, and there’s so much a hint of the old Jack that David feels a sense of relief. It’s short lived when the sneer falls and Jack just nods. 

The room feels heavy and cold, and David wants to throw open one of the windows. Gath is less bleak than it was, the air fresh and sun shining down on them more days than not. It’s as though the light and shine of Gilboa has followed David back here, and he’s startled by the strength of _want_ he has for Jack to see it - and love it. 

When Jack raises his head, he gives David the once over. “Gath has been kind to you.”

His voice is as strong as David remembers; at least Silas hasn’t taken that from him. 

“They have,” David agrees. He chooses his next words carefully. “Gilboa has not returned the favour to you.”

Jack’s smile, when it comes, is self-deprecating. This, too, David remembers. “She doesn’t appreciate usurpers being left to run free.”

David spent a lot of time in Gilboa learning the nuances of Jack’s words, when to take them seriously, when to read what he wasn’t saying as much as he was. It’s something he wishes he could transfer to politics; it would help. “I didn’t think they’d imprison you.”

The snort is derisive. Jack looks away again, eyes dropping to the carpet. He frowns, part in anger, part in confusion. “You didn’t know my father that well after all.”

 _No_ , David thinks. _I don’t think I did._

\- - - 

**o3.** _And he said to him, “Do not fear, for the hand of Saul my father shall not find you. You shall be king over Israel, and I shall be next to you. Saul my father also knows this.”_

“You’re safe here, you know,” Jack says, the third day. 

He doesn’t leave his room much, and David finds himself there more often than not, unless he’s desperately needed elsewhere. The war this time will have to be subtle and swift; taking Gilboa from Silas while he’s still trying to reconstruct it from the mess both Jack and he left it in. 

There’s food on the table in front of them, though Jack isn’t really eating as much as pushing it around the plate. David pokes at his own, relishing the fact that it’s not rations. “I don’t think I’ll ever truly be safe.”

It’s not what he wants to say, but it drags a smile from Jack, however vicious it turns. “My fa- _Silas_ \- wouldn’t waste time trying to find you when his own people refuse to trust him.”

It’s more than David’s learned from the Gath soldiers, and it’s information he can use, he’s sure. Perhaps these talks will serve more of a purpose than just trying to find the Jack that David knows is in there somewhere. 

“Besides,” Jack says, pushing his plate away. “The people here need you too much to let anything happen to you.”

It hurts to hear it laid out so easily, but it’s nothing David hasn’t already thought about himself. God wants him on the throne, but that’s easier to think about than it is to do. “What do you need?”

The question takes Jack by surprise, and he rocks back in his chair. He opens his mouth a couple of times, as though he’s trying to find the right words but doesn’t know what they should be.

“There’s no right answer,” David says, making sure to keep his tone light as he takes a mouthful of food. He’s playing a hunch, and when Jack just nods, staring down at the table with a thoughtful expression, David smiles.

\- - - 

**o4.** _the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David_

“He wanted an heir.” 

The words come out of nowhere. David is in the communal kitchen, mug of tea cooling on the table in front of him, but he doesn’t want to drink it just yet. He’s been watching the steam rise and is broken out of his silent musing. 

When he looks up, Jack is standing in the doorway. He’s at least wearing socks this time, though David isn’t sure why Jack’s taken to being barefoot all the time. He’ll have to ask. 

“Silas?”

Jack nods. He crosses the room, hand sliding on the back of one of the chairs. “Michelle was - _is_ \- gone, and so I had to produce one.”

The tone of Jack’s voice is impassive, cold, and David can almost believe he’s reciting something he’s read. This is something much worse, and as the words register, David winces. He knows how Silas feels about Jack’s proclivities, but to force someone against their nature; it’s nothing David can understand. 

Sliding into the chair across from David, Jack runs a hand over his face. He flicks his eyes up to meet David’s, and then drops them down to his hands. “He trapped me in a room and told me that I would have to produce an heir.”

David doesn’t need to hear anything else, though now he’s started speaking, it’s like Jack can’t stop. He’s nasty and angry, letting the words roll out between them, fingernails digging into the wood of the table. There are tears in his eyes, too, and David finds his own sadness tightening his chest. Silas really isn’t the person David thought, _hoped_ , he was, and to do something so vile to his own son - David cannot understand it. 

“I’m sorry,” David says, voice low. 

“Right,” Jack says, sceptically. “Not that I don’t have - not that I shouldn’t be sorry either.”

Falling so far from grace has shattered something inherently _Jack_ , but David knows the rest is there, that he can draw it out and use it, show Jack his own potential. For another time, perhaps, when neither of them is so wrung out. “Why don’t you wear socks?”

The question comes from nowhere, but David feels a surge of satisfaction when Jack’s startled into a laugh, though it ends far too quickly. He sobers a little and shrugs, though there’s still pain there. “To feel what I’m standing on. When I was in that room, when I thought I would never leave, it was hard to _feel_. This way I know I’m not on the same carpet, staring at the same four walls.”

“But you never leave,” David says. 

Jack gestures at the kitchen around them, a wry look on his face. David has to admit the point, though he still worries. He can’t help but smile when Jack settles back in his chair, tapping a finger lightly on the table. When he meets David’s gaze, he gives a tentative smile. “Besides, someone has to start saving you from yourself.”

\- - - 

**o5.** _And Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David, saying, “May the Lord take vengeance on David’s enemies.”_

David attends the next meeting with Jack in tow. While still more wary than relaxed, Jack is settling at least into the rooms they share, spending more time out of his room than in. David’s grateful for even that much, but even more so when Jack starts to talk, telling him about Gilboa - and the things he picked up on. 

“People are more inclined to talk,” he’d told David with disgust, “when they think their Prince is broken.”

There are already several people waiting, some soldiers, some advisers to Shaw, other people who have been pulled into the resistance on David’s name alone. He doesn’t know why he holds such appeal to anyone, much less people he’s never met before. 

When he says as much to Jack in a low tone, Jack gives him a look that’s equal parts disbelief and amused irritation. “You really have no idea of the effect you have on people, do you?”

It comes from somewhere, David knows, that Jack’s used to tapping into; David suspected back in Gilboa that Jack hated him, or at east resented him and Jack was more than happy to agree with the opinion. Now, David doesn’t know what Jack thinks or feels. 

Everyone looks up when they enter, and though they smile for David, most are startled by Jack’s appearance and a couple are outright angry. 

“What is _he_ doing here?” One young woman asks. She’s a Gilboan soldier, David knows, but he can’t remember how she was pulled into this resistance. 

Jack stiffens beside him, and David can see him ready to snap something in reply, but David doesn’t want there to be a fight here. He wraps his fingers around Jack’s wrist, not that he expects it to do much, and is surprised when Jack immediately shuts his mouth. 

“He’s here at my request,” David says, keeping his tone level and strong. There’s a hesitation and David really hopes nobody is going to challenge him. He doesn’t know why he still has so much faith in Jack, especially after what transpired in Shiloh, but there’s something altogether different about this Jack, while still retaining enough of the person David knew. 

Eventually he receives nods from everyone, and both he and Jack take a seat at the table. Jack is uncomfortable, though David can see him taking notes on everything being said. David takes his cues from the expressions on Jack’s face; when talk begins how much land they’ve taken, Jack frowns, and David nudges him. “What?”

Jack pauses, though he doesn’t look reticent to answer. “You don’t have anyone in Shiloh.”

“No,” David says. “Not since we sent people in for you.”

“Right.” Jack’s staring down at the maps spread on the table, and David’s seen that face before, seen the way Jack’s mind turns everything over in his head, working out just the right way to do things. It’s something he through Jack was missing when he’d taken over as King, but then he’d had someone in the wings telling him what to do. David knows that’s not the way for Jack to grow; he needs the encouragement, not a stern hand. “So what do you suggest we do?”

There’s some discomfort from the others about Jack giving opinions on the best way to take Gilboa, and David can understand; they don’t know Jack like he does, so they can’t trust him the way David’s come to. Still, when Jack starts talking, gesturing at the map and talking about all of the political moves that they need to take, things David has been lacking, the discomfort turns to surprise, then to agreement. Jack, it seems, is only too willing to help them. 

“Why?” David asks later, when they’re alone in the room. “Is it for revenge?”

Jack’s still looking down at the maps. “I used to dream about getting free, about destroying my father, even you.” David’s not surprised to hear it, but it still hurts. “I used to blame everyone. I’ve been raised to want to be king, I’ve been raised to _expect_ it. I never though I wouldn’t want it.”

“And now?”

“Rumour has it God has chosen a King for Gilboa who doesn’t carry the Benjamin surname.” 

David flushes. “There have been signs.”

They fall into silence. Jack contemplating the past, Gilboa, things David doesn’t know and can’t discern. David thinking about how far Jack has come already, just because he’s free from Gilboa’s shadow. From his family’s shadow. 

“I stopped hating you eventually,” Jack offers, finally. “It took isolation to realize you were just that noble and self-sacrificing.” He says it with the disgust David has come to know, but it drops away fairly quickly. “I don’t think I can be that way.”

“Why?” David says immediately. “Everyone has it in them.”

Jack snorts. “Even me? The usurper? The traitor? The _puppet_?”

The last word drips with venom, but David leans forward, tapping the table to get Jack’s attention. When he’s sure he has it, David swallows thickly and then says, “Even you. _Especially_ you.”

Jack looks skeptical, but David can wait. Slowly, surely, the expression drops into something resembling uncertainty - and hope. “I’ll put you on the throne.”

David’s chest floods with warmth and he finds himself saying, “ _us_ ,” before he can stop himself.

\- - - 

**o6.** _And Jonathan made David swear again by his love for him, for he loved him as he loved his own soul._

“You said _us_ ,” Jack says, arms sliding around David’s neck. 

David doesn’t know what he’s doing, he feels untethered and wild, drowning in everything Jack gives him; touches, kisses, _everything_. “I did.”

Jack pulls him in, kisses like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do it, like David is going to leave at any moment. As if he could. As if anyone could part him from Jack now that he has him, the real him, the person he’s always know was there. They kiss. The touches turn hungry, desperate and eager. 

David’s body fits so well against Jack’s, he thinks, as the air starts to feel heavy with heat and sweat and _need_. “ _Jack_.”

Jack surges up, taking everything from David. He takes his body, his heart, everything he _is_.

David takes in return; he’s seen this Jack unfold, watched him become the man he is right now, the person who’s just dedicated himself to putting _David_ on the throne. David doesn’t want it if Jack isn’t going to be right there too. 

“Us,” Jack says slowly, eyes heavy with something David’s afraid to name, but feels blossoming in his own chest.

\- - -

**o7.** _your love to me was extraordinary_

When David takes the throne of Gilboa, Jack is at his side. With a steady gaze, sharp tongue, and unconditional loyalty for his king, Jack is the unwavering support David’s always needed. David knows - because though it was only once, Jack has told him so - that Jack appreciates David’s own loyalty, the trust and faith he has always had in Jack being a good person, someone deserving of God’s love and attention, and Jack believes it. 

There are days, often, when Jack falls into a mood, when he’s not sure he’s worthy of everything he’s received, but David finds it easier to convince him that he’s wrong, that there’s nobody else David will ever want beside him. 

Little by little, Jack becomes the man he deserves to be.


End file.
